


Doppelganger

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "So Shall Ye Reap."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doppelganger

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #12 under the pen name Laura Grigsby.

_"I'm flattered."_

 

          Ironhorse stood in the center of the abandoned jail hallway, watching the horror play itself out.  Before him, writhing and snarling on the floor, men and women fought for one more drop of the liquid pink drug.  After a few moments, an eerie silence enveloped them, broken only by low moans of pleasure and the sound of fingers being fastidiously licked.

          A cloak of hopelessness settled over the colonel's shoulders.  There was nothing he could do, nothing to help the latest victims of the aliens' experiments.

          He shivered slightly, watching glazed expressions settle over the faces of the human 'inmates.'

          A scream rattled down the halls.

          Before he or any of them could act, the hospital gown-clad men and women began to scream, their limbs flailing and their mouths' frothing with pink foam.  Convulsions racked their bodies, wringing screams and more desperate moans out of them.

          "Oh my God," Suzanne gasped, reaching out to grab hold of Ironhorse's uniform sleeve.  She bent forward slightly, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

          He tracked her line of sight and felt an invisible fist bury itself into his gut.  He sucked in a breath and took an involuntary step forward, but stopped as Blackwood pushed his way past.

          "How—?"

          Ironhorse stepped up next to the astrophysicist, Suzanne moving with him.  "It's not him," the soldier said quietly as a black man flopped on the cement floor, his expression a twisted horror.  He looked exactly like Norton Drake.

          "But—"

          "Norton's at the police station," Ironhorse said softly.

          Suzanne's fingers tightened in the fabric of Paul's jacket.  "We have to do something.  We have to—"

          "It's too late.  There's nothing to do," Lieutenant Perry said, having stepped up to join the threesome.  "They're dying."

          And she was right.

          While they watched, the bodies stilled, the cries easing off into soft whimpers.  In less than ten minutes the nightmare was over, except for one man.

          Ironhorse was the first to move, stepping over one twisted body to reach the Norton doppelganger.  The black man lay on his back, knees up, his hands gripping his own shoulders.  His chest rose and fell with labored, rasping gasps.  Eyes open, they focused on the water-stained ceiling and did not blink.

          The colonel knelt next to the man.  "Goodson!"

          The medic crouched on the other side of the man, already digging into his field kit.

          "Do what you can," Ironhorse said steadily.

          Goodson worked, the echo of sirens reverberating through the hallway like a cry of a faraway banshee.  Harrison and Suzanne stood at the man's feet, watching, waiting as the man's breaths grew more labored.  His eyes blinked closed, then opened again, staring at Ironhorse.

          "Hang on," the colonel said.  "Help's on the way."

          The man's gaze remained fixed on Paul, unblinking.  He seemed aware, but detached.

          "What's your name?" the colonel asked.

          No answer.

          "Can you hear me?" he probed gently.

          The man's mouth opened, flakes of dried pink froth falling off his lips.  A low sound hissed past his throat, but no words.

          Ironhorse reached out, resting his hand lightly on the man's shoulder.  "Easy—"

          With speed that surprised everyone, including the colonel, the man's hand trapped Ironhorse's wrist.  Two black gazes locked.  "They ain't human, man," the man wheezed.

          "I know," Ironhorse responded.  "They're aliens, from another planet.  We're at war."

          The corners of the man's mouth twitched upwards.  "Kick their fuckin' asses."

          Ironhorse's own lips curled into a feral snarl.  "I plan to do just that."

          The doppelganger nodded, his grip sliding free.  Ironhorse caught his hand as the man's eyes rolled back.  Goodson responded, then looked up at the colonel.  "He's gone."

          Ironhorse nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Norton watched the three somber Project members and Lt. Perry enter the office.  Whatever had gone down was bad.

          Suzanne was the first to reach him, and she paused long enough to give him a hard hug before retreating to the restroom.  Harrison took a seat on the desk, then reached out and gave the hacker's shoulder a squeeze.

          "It's over," he said quietly.

          Lt. Perry nodded, her haggard expression making her look a decade older than the last time Norton had seen her.  "Thirty-seven dead…  How the hell am I going to explain this?"

          "Terrorists," Blackwood replied.

          Perry shot him a dubious look.  "It'll have to be a little more detailed than that."

          "Someone from the Pentagon will help you with the reports and press," Ironhorse told her.

          Norton watched the colonel, wondering if he was going to sit down or remain standing at near-attention on the other side of the desk.  "Bad, huh?" he asked.

          "Very."

          Harrison's short, taciturn reply clued Norton in on the depth of the horror the Project members had witnessed.  "Everyone okay?"

          "It was over before we got there," Ironhorse said.  "Except for the dying."

          "I've got to get some rest," Lt. Perry said, heading for her office.  "Don't leave until we talk," was her final order to the Project.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Back in their hotel suite, Norton listened as Suzanne and Harrison described what they had seen in the old jail.  The realization of the kinds of experiments the aliens had been conducting and the death of his 'twin' had shaken them badly.

It was frustrating, but all he could do was listen and try to be as sympathetic and supportive as possible.

          Suzanne gave him another hug, and he patted her back.  She stepped back, saying, "I think watching him die brought home just how dangerous this really is.  Even when I thought Cash was going to be taken over…  It didn't hit me that we could— That the aliens might—"

          "That we might end up victims, too?" Harrison suggested.

          "Something like that," Suzanne acknowledged.  She sank down onto an overstuffed chair.  "I guess I just never thought about having to watch one of you die."

          Blackwood nodded.  "I've always known we could lose Ironhorse.  He's on the front line, and I try to make my peace with that, but…"  He shook his head.  "It made me realize that I didn't appreciate how close it was when we lost Kensington."

          Norton snorted and shook his head.  "That was close enough for me for this lifetime and the next."

          Suzanne leaned forward and squeezed the hacker's hand.  "I'm just so glad it wasn't you."

          "Me, too," Norton quipped, but he understood.

          "I've got to get some sleep," she said, standing.  "Where's Paul?"

          "Checking with Omega," Harrison told her.  "He'll be back soon."  He checked his watch.  "I think I could do with a nap, too.  Norton?"

          "I'm going to finish my coffee first," he replied.  "Sleep well, both of you."

          The two Project members headed to their bedrooms, leaving Norton alone in the suite's living room.  He turned out the lights and maneuvered Gertrude closer to the gas fireplace, sipping his coffee in the dancing firelight.  Almost an hour later Ironhorse eased silently into the room.

          "I thought you'd be in bed," the colonel said when he found Drake still up.

          "Not ready," Norton responded.  "The troops okay?"

          "Fine," Paul said, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the carafe.  "Cleanup is complete, and no injuries.  PR man should be here by noon to help Lt. Perry."

          "I'm sure she'll appreciate that."  Norton waited while Ironhorse carried his coffee over and sat down on the floor next to the fire.  "How are you?"

          The colonel looked up at Drake, his eyebrows peaked.  "Me?"

          Norton nodded.

          Ironhorse grinned and shook his head.  "The verdict's not in yet, Norton."

          "That's about what I thought.  Want to talk about it?"

          "Nothing to say."

          "That's not what Harrison and Suzanne said."

          The soldier took a gulp of coffee, then sat the cup down on the warm tile heart.  "It was… disconcerting."

          "I'm flattered."

          That prompted a soft chuckle from the colonel.  "You'd think I'd get used to it."

          "Can you?" Norton asked, reaching for his own cup, resting next to Paul's.

          "No."

          Norton watched Ironhorse study the dancing orange and blue flames, sipping on his coffee and waiting for the soldier to speak.  When several minutes passed in silence, he ventured, "He really looked that much like me?"

          Ironhorse nodded.

          "They say we all have a twin somewhere."

          "It wasn't that he looked like you," Ironhorse replied, speaking to the flames. "It was the feeling of helplessness.  Knowing that I couldn't help him, and knowing that someday I might be in the same situation with one of you…  As stupid as it might sound, what bothered me most, was knowing I can't always be in control.  I can't always fix the situation."

          Norton shook his head slightly.  "That's not stupid," he said, an ironic smile twisting his lips.  "For me it's thinking that I'll always be safe, and knowing there's no such thing until this is over."

          "If then."

          "I know what you mean."  He sat his empty cup down as Ironhorse reached for his, their hands brushing slightly.

          He looked back up at Drake.  "It's not like any war or fight I've known."

          "You never had to babysit a bunch of civilians."

          "I'm not babysitting, Norton.  You, Suzanne, Harrison, even Debi, you're all…"

          "Wheelchair warriors?"

          "Warriors in your own right," he corrected.  "But not the kind I'm used to dealing with.  I don't know how to protect you and fight alongside you."

          "Then just fight with us and let us protect ourselves."

          Ironhorse turned back to the flames.  "And if you can't?"

          "Then we all know we each did our best.  Like you say, it's a war, and warriors die."

          Ironhorse turned his head just enough to meet Norton's gaze.  "That's true, but I came as close as I'd like to watching one of you die tonight."

          Norton nodded.  "And believe me, I came as close as I ever want to being dead."

          Ironhorse pushed himself to his feet.  Reaching out he slapped Norton's shoulder lightly.  "Amen to that, Mr. Drake."

          "Colonel?" Norton called, stopping the soldier.  "Did he… suffer?"

          "Not long."  With that, Ironhorse headed for bed.

          Norton watched him go, a warm feeling in his chest.  Bending over, he picked up the two empty cups.  "Gertrude, back two, right seven."

          Arriving back at the table, he set the cups next to the empty carafe.  He glanced back at the fire, deciding to leave it burn.

          Entering the room he shared with Harrison, Norton maneuvered out of his clothes and into bed.  As he drifted off to sleep, he saw himself walking toward a giant circle of blue-white light.  He paused in his ascent and looked back at his sleeping self.

          "Good luck, my man," he told himself, then stepped forward to join the light.


End file.
